This week I was listening to my favorite talk radio and heard I have been given the directive to write about something I am emotional about, keeping in “theme” with other writers. For me, a topic that I was emotional about was easy. I am not sure it will be that easy to write.
Often, you hear people say if they realized this was the last, they would have …
I have been through a good bit of lasts: the last diaper changes; the last nap; the last time to be the Tooth Fairy. The last time I tied my son’s skates. The last time I fixed my daughters’ hair. The last high school formals, not to out shadow the last high school graduation. Many of these events, I would have embraced a little more tightly if in the moment I had realized it was the last.
Some, of course, I did.
This week, Tom and I will move our last child into her dorm room. Notice I said, last. This is not our first rodeo. We have moved our people into dorms and apartments a good bit. This is our last. This experience is both familiar and surreal.
We know the drill. Boxes and bags filled with all of her essentials. A mix of nerves and excitement for all of us. That bittersweet feeling of watching our child step one step further into adulthood. Roots and wings. Yet each time it is different. Roots and wings.
This time, I think the process will be smoother, partially because it is our third time and largely because of this child. This child has been making lists and setting stuff aside in a designated spot for more than 3 months, and not because she wants to leave. She is just that organized. As we haul boxes and other stuff to the car and into the dorm, I envision a sense of déjà vu. We have been here before. We have done this before. Twice. I know how the day will end: with hugs, some tears, and a drive home that feels both quiet and heavy.
As much as the logistics seem easier, the emotional impact does not seem like it is going to be less. In fact, it seems heavier, and my house will be quieter. This is our third. The baby of the family. Sending her off feels like we are closing a chapter in a book, I am not ready to finish. The first two times, I had the comfort of knowing there were still kids at home. When Seth moved to Lexington to attend the University of Kentucky, Alexis was starting her sophomore year in high school. Payton was starting 4th grade. While that drive was tear-filled, we had cheer and soccer practices to get to and school supplies to buy. Focus was able to shift to what needed to be done.
When Alexis moved into her dorm at Kent State University, everyone was tired, frustrated, hot, and hungry. Alexis moved into a dorm with no air conditioning. Alexis’ move was probably the reason Payton had committed to housing last October, even before solidifying her choice of school. But as excited for Alexis as I was as she wrote her next chapter, we had logistics at home to deal with for Payton. Focus again was able to be shifted to what needed to be done.
Now, the house will be emptier, the rhythm of daily life quieter. There are no more practices. No more school supplies to buy.
As I think forward to next weekend with Tom assembling some items to enhance and maximize space in her new “home,” and me helping her arrange her room, finding just the right spot for her favorite pictures, I keep thinking how quickly time has passed. It seems like just yesterday she was heading to preschool and starting kindergarten with her cute, little, navy blue blazer and backpack almost as big as she was. Now, she is embarking on this next big adventure.
There is a palpable sense of pride, too. I have had the pleasure to watch her grow into a confident, capable, young woman, ready to take on the challenges and opportunities that college will bring. She will thrive, just like Seth and Alexis, but it does not make the pending goodbye any easier.
We have been through this before, yet I am sure each departure is unique. This time, like both times before, we are leaving our child but also leaving a piece of our heart. We are leaving a part of our lives that has been central for so long. We have been raising children for many, many years.
We know the drive home will feel quieter, the house will feel different, and the dogs will be confused seeing three of us leave but only two return. It will be an adjustment, but I am proud to know we have done our job well, raising our kids ready to face the world on their own.
Roots and wings.
